"Tell you what," said Bob. "You call them by their first names, and I'll call them by their last. We'll see if it makes any difference."But we need to...display a common front," said Cecelia."Says who?" Bob smiled. "People are different. They have different tastes and understandings. There's nothing wrong with kids seeing adults agreeing to disagree. It's even better if they hear both sides of an issue and have to think about it to make up their own minds about what to believe."The days continued. Putting aside the fact that he was cheating on my stepmom, a dozen questions popped into my head. Who was she, and how had my dad got her into the house so quickly, and without me noticing? However, as I thought about these questions, something strange happened: my dick started to get hard as I watched my dad do his thing. I couldn’t believe it, but I was getting aroused by my own father. My mind slowly began to empty as I stuck my hand down my boxers and grabbed my dick and squeezed. Within. She kept her gaze fixed upon him, as he did upon her. He could see the twitches in her face, the lust in her eyes as she built her pleasure. Her face dared him to watch and he did, unflinching -- even blinks performed sparingly and grudgingly. She fed from his gaze, excited by the attention, inspired to God knows what internal exhibitionist fantasies. He lost track of time and the world around him as he watched her arousal build. Surely she wouldn't be able to go all the way that way would she?. My task is to identify and sort out what comes along, and cull the bad from the good. Sometimes I don’t get a lot of time to make up my mind. Sometimes you just have to go with what you got.’ Later, on this particular morning I spied a tipcart rolling along the street toward me, the driver of the cart was a stout matron wearing an old felt hat, overalls, and brogans, steering a one-horned ox with a pair of clothes-line reins. Beside her on the cart’s seat sat the old man called ‘Rattlesnake.